


Can't help falling in bed with you

by tirralirra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, American-style College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Pining, Roommates (and they were roommates!), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirralirra/pseuds/tirralirra
Summary: Rintarou's roommate keeps winding up in his bed. He wishes it were for a romantic reason.AKAFive times Suna and Osamu share a bed accidentally, and one time on purpose.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 34
Kudos: 223
Collections: SunaOsa Valentine's Exchange





	Can't help falling in bed with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onigirikita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onigirikita/gifts).



> For day 5 of the 2021 [SunaOsa Valentine's Exchange](https://twitter.com/sunaosaexchange)
> 
> Happy (early) Valentine's day, Kei! I hope you enjoyed this sweet little college AU, it was a pleasure to write.
> 
> \---
> 
>  **CW:** mild depictions of alcohol
> 
> (Based on a North American style university/college/dorm experience, but imagine wherever makes sense to you!)

The unspoken rule of dorm bed claiming is clear: unless negotiated beforehand, it’s first come, first served. By the time Rintarou’s roommate rolls up to their shared room with his first load of luggage, Rintarou has already made the bottom bunk up with his extra long twin sheets and lies sprawled across the bed, poking at this phone.

He looks up when the loud bickering he hears coming down the hallway gets closer and closer to his door.

“—you lazy scrub, you definitely could’ve packed better if you started earlier—”

“Listen, not all of us got to move into their _fancy new student athlete apartment_ a whole friggin’ month before classes started, Tsumu—”

“—wouldn’t have to be dragging so many heavy boxes up here, what the heck Samu, have you heard of ‘consolidating’—”

Two people burst into the room, the door crashing into the spring door stopper with a twang. Rintarou lifts himself onto his forearms to address the new arrivals and almost does a double take when two identical faces stare back at him from the doorway.

“...Hi,” he tries. 

The blond one recovers first. He smiles, walking forward with a hand out to greet Rintarou. 

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Atsumu, and that,” he jerks a thumb to point at his twin, “is Osamu. Your new roommate.”

Rintarou looks Atsumu up and down. He does have an athletic build, confirming the 'athlete' detail from the shouted conversation. He takes his hand lazily. “Suna. Rintarou. Pleasure.”

“Oi, why are you the one making introductions,” Osamu complains, coming up behind Atsumu and elbowing him out of the way. They seem nearly identical from what Rintarou can tell, and very attractive, to both Rintarou’s delight and mild irritation.

Likewise, Osamu’s eyes sweep over Rintarou, then the beds, and the overall tiny expanse of their dorm room. He glances up at the unmade bed on top.

“Top bunk for me then, huh?”

“Yeah, if that’s cool with you?” Rintarou answers.

“Yep, works for me, just—yeah, we’re good,” Osamu says, taking off his hat and hanging it on one corner of the bunk. His hair is dark brown, and a little smushed from the cap. “Looking forward to getting along.” He extends a hand as well.

“Likewise,” Rintarou says, sitting up properly to meet Osamu’s gaze and take his hand firmly. They lock eyes. Osamu’s eyes are a captivating warm gray. There’s something almost magnetic about them; Rintarou doesn’t want to look away first.

Behind them, Atsumu shatters the moment when he dumps a large plastic storage box with a dull thud. “Okay, roomies, let’s get this party started, huh?”

“You’re not my roommate anymore,” Osamu says, breaking eye contact with Rintarou abruptly.

“Yeah yeah, and good riddance too,” Atsumu returns.

Rintarou can’t help but laugh internally at the twins’ bickering as they unload Osamu’s stuff. They remind him of the dumb fights he has with his sister, the cadence and silly insults familiar, yet not.

Suddenly, Rintarou feels a pang of homesickness at the thought. He hasn’t even been here for two hours, what the hell. Lying back on this bunk, he lets the twins’ verbal sparring wash over him as a welcome distraction. He wasn’t sure about this whole college thing, if he’s really being honest with himself, far from home and without a particular major in mind, but with these two around, it’s already starting to look up a little.

===

“Alright, take care of my little brother, Suna!” Atsumu calls when they finish their last load, and starts scampering out the door with a cackle.

“Li—Tsumu, it was _eight_ _minutes_ ,” Osamu rushes after, but stops at the door, shaking his head, shoulders shrugging with what looks like the weight of a familiar exasperation.

Their dorm room is now considerably more crowded with both of its tenants and their belongings. It’s not as though Osamu has a lot of stuff, though, regardless of Atsumu’s complaints. Their room really is just that small—the bunk bed sits along one wall and perpendicular to a window. Across a narrow floor space next to the bunk, two desks sit adjacent along the other wall. Bookshelves perch above them. A teeny split closet space with drawers and a clothes bar for them each sits opposite the window, right next to the door. They crammed a mini-fridge and microwave on one side of the desks as well.

Rintarou never had to share a room before, so he’s more nervous than he’d like to admit.

Osamu pulls out a desk chair and sits on it backwards, facing Rintarou on the bed. He crosses his arms over the back and props his chin on his hands. Rintarou eyes him expectantly.

“So, Suna. Suna?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him, the question implied.

“Just Suna is fine,” he replies.

“Cool. Call me Osamu, what with a twin and all,” Osamu says with a little sigh. “Sorry for him, by the way. You’re probably going to see him around a lot, clingy guy as he is.” Osamu doesn’t look too upset about it, so it must go both ways. “How about you, anything I should know off the bat? Deadly food allergies? Parasitic relatives and/or friends? Terrible sleeping habits?”

Rintarou’s lips quirk upwards. “Nah. And I’m not a local, so you don’t have to worry about many unexpected visitors from me.”

“Okay, but surely you’re going to make some friends in college too,” Osamu laughs. “So, it’s good to set some ground rules as roommates, like when and how often people can come over to hang out, or if you’re okay with people sitting on your bed, stuff like that. Curse of the bottom bunk, and all.”

“Ah.” That’s true. There isn’t much room for socializing in this space. The only seating except the floor or desk chairs is the bunk. “Nah, that’s fine, I’m not too picky about that type of thing.”

“Great,” Osamu smiles. They spend the rest of the afternoon hashing out weird little details like that, things Rintarou never even thought might be an issue when cohabiting at college. He’s grateful that Osamu brings them up.

As they unpack and get to know each other, it turns out they actually have a lot in common, and pretty low key expectations to start. It looks like having Osamu as his roommate might be the best luck he’s had so far at this whole college thing.

=== [1] ===

That first night, in a strange new place, on a strange bed, where the light filtering through their one window is the wrong shade and the day’s series of meeting floormates, figuring out the dining halls, and unpacking still bounces around his head, Rintarou can’t fall asleep. He lies completely still, staring at the underside of the bunk above him. From the sounds of gentle, steady breathing above him, Osamu does not have the same problem.

Rintarou resists the urge to reach for his phone and scroll on social media in the dark to kill time. If he starts now, he can kiss any chance of sleeping goodbye.

Above him, Osamu’s light breathing stutters, and he hears a soft huff. Then, the bed frame shakes a little. A foot slides down the ladder at the end. Rintarou rolls over onto his side quickly, trying to feign sleep instinctually, but Osamu pays him no mind. He stumbles to the door, banging into a corner of their closet space on the way with a quiet curse. 

In the dark, Rintarou counts the seconds for lack of anything better to do. Weirdly enough, he starts to drift off, the little spike of adrenaline from feigning sleep wearing off and reminding Rintarou’s body how exhausted it is. He’s so close to sleep that he barely even registers when Osamu comes back into the room. 

Then, a warm body slides in next to him on the bed. Rintarou’s eyes fly open, but since he’s facing the wall, he only feels Osamu rolling up next to him, burrowing under his comforter. When Osamu’s shoulder meets his back, he hears a sleepy murmur. “If you’re gonna sleep in my bed, you better budge up, Tsumu…”

 _His_ bed? Rintarou rolls over to yell at his new roommate, but Osamu is already dead asleep again. He tries to shake Osamu awake, whispering his name, volume growing a little louder with each call, but the other just rolls over at some point.

And Osamu asked Rintarou if _he_ had any bad sleeping habits. What the hell do you call this?

Rintarou sighs. There goes any chance of sleep.

===

Rintarou senses the morning light creeping into their room, washing the back of his lids with a warm, orange light. Curse east-facing windows.

He opens his eyes with annoyance to a high definition view of Osamu’s face, and nearly yelps. That’s right...Osamu crawled into his bed last night. He can’t believe he fell asleep after all that. Now they’re face-to-face, noses inches away from one another. 

He sucks in a breath, and Osamu starts to stir, eyes blinking open slowly. His brows furrow, then his eyes snap open wide.

They both hold their breath.

“...Suna? What are you doing in my bed?” Osamu finally asks in a quiet, even voice.

“...This is _my_ bed, Osamu,” Rintarou responds, as deadpan as possible.

Silence. Puzzlement. Osamu’s brows shoot up, then settle back into a picture of guilt.

“Oh. Um,” Osamu sits up, scooting over towards the edge of the bed, “sorry about that. Uh, I guess I should’ve expected this…Tsumu and I had bunks growing up, and the layout of this room is really similar to our room back home too. I slept on the bottom. Force of habit. Really sorry, Suna.”

Rintarou sits up too, watching Osamu carefully. There’s a light blush on his cheeks, and he looks away from Rintarou, one hand rubbing his neck self-consciously.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind. And I get it. Just be careful next time, I guess.” He shrugs. It’s not like Osamu was a terrible bed partner, by all accounts of this one night. Rintarou slept, nobody kicked him, and they didn’t wake up spooning on their first morning together with only twelve or so hours of tentative acquaintance. Small successes, but important ones.

“It won’t happen again,” Osamu says as he scoots off the bed and stretches, a slim line of skin showing as his shirt rides up with his arms. Rintarou shivers, and rolls back over under the covers.

=== [2] ===

True to Osamu’s word, it doesn’t happen again. Not for the first couple months, at least. They settle into a comfortable routine. They’re both easy going, even though Osamu is pretty studious and Rintarou is more of a cram-at-the-last-minute kind of guy. Despite that, they manage to sync up schedule-wise pretty often.

Rintarou likes it. Hanging out with Osamu is relaxing, easy, and enjoyable. They have the same sense of humor, always swiveling their laptops to show each other another funny video (Rintarou) or an amazing recipe (Osamu) when they take study breaks at their desks. 

It’s also like getting a two-for-one friend with how often Atsumu comes over. Osamu is quiet and sarcastic when alone with Rintarou, but put him with his brother and they become a lively comedy duo. Rintarou finds himself embroiled in their antics more often than not, and actually garners a bit of a local following on social media with his photos and videos immortalizing their stunts. They become fast friends with another floormate, Gin, and the four of them usually eat dinner together, except when Atsumu has a late practice or a game. 

All in all, Rintarou enjoys college more than he thought he would going into it. He always imagined it would be more of the same thing everyday: following schedules, sleeping through lectures, and churning out endless assignments. But even with all that there’s a kind of exhilarating spontaneity: study sessions that turn into late night gaming sessions, midnight snack runs to the nearby convenience store, and the strange hijinks that occur when you stick a bunch of young adults with low impulse control in close quarters (he swears he saw one of their floormates built a scale model of the Parthenon out of cheetos and spray cheese last week, though there is no evidence of that now).

It’s routine, but it’s not. It’s stressful, but it’s fun. He comes to like his syncopated rhythm to college life. He drags Osamu awake almost every morning. They go to the dining hall downstairs for breakfast together, then they part ways for classes. Sometimes they intersect on campus for a quick study session or just to relax. They meet up for dinner again and hang out or study together afterwards more often than not. Osamu turns in for bed pretty early by college student standards most nights, while Rintarou will usually be up a little later, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

They don’t have a repeat incident of the first night’s bed mix-up. 

===

Then some dumbass college student sets off the fire alarm. To be fair, this isn’t anything new, and they’re all dumbass college students. The first month of the semester was ripe with microwave mishaps as clueless teenagers learned that no, you can’t put aluminum foil in a microwave, or that the smoke detector in the third floor’s common room is particularly sensitive. 

What’s remarkable about this instance is that it’s the middle of winter, just below freezing outside, and 2:41 a.m. on a weeknight. And of course, they can’t know if it’s serious or not until _after_ they all trudge down eight flights of stairs and huddle in the rear parking lot in pajamas and hastily-grabbed jackets.

Rintarou wakes up to the shrill sound and blinking lights first. Osamu is a heavy sleeper, and it takes several tries to rouse him enough to comprehend that he needs to go downstairs. He moves like a zombie the whole way down, pinching a corner of Rintarou’s jacket between his thumb and forefinger. At one point, Rintarou worries that he’ll trip and start a domino effect of casualties down the narrow concrete stairwell, so he grasps Osamu’s hand firmly in his own to guide him down. Osamu doesn’t protest or pull away.

Everyone knows this is most likely a false alarm, but it still feels bleak and harrowing outside. Students huddle in small groups, far back from the building. A distant wail of a fire truck crescendos. Rintarou snagged their jackets on the way out, but it’s still frigid in the parking lot. At least they’re not like some of the other poor saps who sleep shirtless or in boxers alone. Rintarou presses close to Osamu—for warmth, of course—feebly tapping out a snarky comment to their floor’s group chat.

 _Poff_. There’s a soft thud and a solid weight on Rintarou’s shoulder. He turns his head and nearly gets a mouthful of soft, dark hair. Osamu’s head rests on his shoulder; he dozes standing upright, conscious enough to stay standing, but by all other measures...asleep.

Rintarou sighs, reaching an arm around to steady his roommate. They’ll be outside for a while yet while the fire department clears every floor. They’ve only been roommates for a handful of months now, but he wouldn’t put it past Osamu to lie down on the asphalt and take a nap, willfully ignorant of the world around him. Not even the sirens as the fire trucks finally arrive garner more than a sniffle from him.

By the time they receive the all clear, Rintarou should feel colder, but the absolute furnace of the man flopped over him keeps him warm. Just body heat, of course, nothing else. His cheeks are pink from the cold air, no doubt.

“Oi. Osamu,” he rouses the other by gently rolling his shoulder. “We can go back inside now.”

Osamu murmurs something unintelligible in response, blinking sleepily and squinting at Rintarou. He motions for them to follow the rest of the dorm inside. Their way back up is considerably slower than the way down. 

Despite Osamu’s warmth, Rintarou’s hands are still freezing from standing in the cold, so he leaves Osamu at their room door to duck into the bathroom. He runs tepid water over his hands, slowly bringing them back to a comfortable temperature. 

By the time he returns to their room, Osamu is already back asleep, as expected. What’s unexpected is that he is, once again, in Rintarou’s bed. 

Rintarou sighs. There he is, burrowed in Rintarou’s extremely warm and fluffy comforter. He glances at the top bunk; Osamu’s blanket is meager in comparison. This is so unfair; Osamu runs hot—they keep the room cool for his benefit. He doesn’t need Rintarou’s special, fluffy, hypo-allergenic high thread count extra fill power goose down comforter.

Whatever. He is now too cold, too tired, and too grumpy to deal with this in a sane manner. If Osamu is uncomfortable waking up next to Rintarou in a few hours, it’s on him. Rintarou crawls into the bed beside him, tugging the edge of the comforter free enough to cover himself. He’s too exhausted at this point to care about anything else.

===

Hot. It’s absolutely stifling. Rintarou wakes up with a gasp and flings the blankets off himself. His hand makes contact with something solid beside him, and he swears with surprise.

“Ow! What the—” Osamu yelps and bolts upright, squinting and disoriented before focusing on Rintarou. “Oh—oh my god. Suna. I’m so sorry, I did it again, didn’t I?” Osamu scrunches his face up and scrubs his hands through his hair with frustration.

Rintarou rubs his sore knuckles with his other hand and peers at Osamu in the early morning light. He looks pretty distraught, all things considered. It’s not like Rintarou minds that much, as he said originally.

“It’s...okay,” he finally says. Then, to put Osamu at ease, “I’m starting to wonder if you’re into this for my blankets, Osamu. And here I thought we had something special.”

Osamu has his head bowed in his hands, but starts chuckling, turning his face out to look up at Rintarou with a half-dimpled smile. Rintarou swallows.

“You’re a good guy, Suna,” Osamu says. “I really lucked out on the roommate draw. Thanks. For last night, and for now.”

Rintarou fights to keep a straight face, so instead he starts teasing Osamu about his zombie sleepwalk yesterday, coming up with wilder and wilder claims about what Osamu did while half asleep. Before long, they’re both laughing, embarrassment erased, until Osamu moves to exit the bed.

This time, Osamu is on the inside edge of the bed, so they have to do an awkward shimmy around each other to get off the bed and start their morning. 

Rintarou’s heart still beats a little quickly when he feels the mattress shift from Osamu’s weight leaving, and he tells himself it’s from laughing, nothing else.

=== [3] ===

It all starts with the party. Sure, Osamu has been Rintarou’s unfairly attractive, funny, dedicated roommate for nearly six months at this point, and now a good friend besides that, but if he had to point to an event that changed it all for them, it’s unequivocally the party.

The university volleyball team has a big win, and the seniors appropriately plan a victory celebration, which in college terms means there’s not much planning except for a place and a vague time, and whether someone has to run out for jungle juice supplies or not.

They’re all athletes, Atsumu reassures them, so it won’t be _too_ wild, relatively speaking. Nonetheless, Rintarou feels a little trepidation. He’s going as a friend of the brother of a team member, after all, though college is ripe with loose associations and most random partygoers would be as welcome as an actual invitee. If nothing else, he consoles himself with the hope that he’ll snag some excellent blackmail material of the twins tonight.

He doesn’t, not really. He _does_ record some pretty badass footage of their beer pong team-up, but he kind of expected that tipsy Miya twins would be like sober Miya twins dialed up to eleven. This would’ve promised some epic, funny childhood anecdotes used as cannon fodder in their bickering matches, and possibly a very funny slapstick play fight to boot, but sadly, no such thing comes to pass.

Instead, Atsumu is the same no-filter Atsumu except instead of pointed observations and smarmy delivery, they soften with an easy affection. 

“Heyyy Suna. Suna!” Atsumu sidles up to Rintarou and playfully elbows him. “I see you're enjoying livin’ with Samu?” Rintarou almost flushes when he realizes he’s been mindlessly staring in Osamu’s direction for the last few minutes, and Atsumu definitely noticed. Osamu did not; he is busy working himself up into a heated discussion about the campus dining halls with another partygoer.

“You know, he’s pretty fond of you too,” Atsumu continues, grinning cheekily at him. “Couldn’t get that guy to keep our room clean for eighteen years, and now he’s the epitome of tidy whenever I visit you guys? Says he’s growing up up, but he’s just trying hard to make a good impression, if you ask me.” 

There is no way that can be true, Rintarou thinks. Rintarou is no slob, but Osamu has always been the more considerate roommate between the two of them.

Atsumu goes on before Rintarou can refute him. “I’m just saying, Suna, that he’s peak Osamu around you. The most Osamu that Osamu can be, if that makes sense.” 

It doesn’t, and Rintarou will file this into a new mental folder of “conversations with inebriated Atsumu” with a sub label of “nonsense”. For now he nods along, confident that Atsumu will forget all about this by the end of the night.

Atsumu claps him on the back. “Good, good, you agree. Knew you’d be good for him. He’ll be good for you too, you’ll see!” And then he trots off to converse with some other hapless bystander. Rintarou shakes his head.

As for Osamu, well. As the night goes on and a few drinks go down, Rintarou doesn’t see much change in Osamu’s speech or overall demeanor, but he is a lot more...handsy. Not in any inappropriate way, but his familiarity, already pretty liberal, starts gaining a weight and frequency it doesn’t usually have. 

An arm over a shoulder, pulling friends and acquaintances in for a side hug. High-fives that linger, hands on shoulders as he rocks back and forth while talking. Leaning in extra close to whisper-shout in Rintarou’s ear over the party’s din when he returns to talk to him.

Any other time, Rintarou might enjoy this as another part of their easy friendship, but Osamu is...attractive. This was obvious the moment Rintarou met him, but it’s becoming increasingly apparent that it is now more than his looks that draw Rintarou in.

It’s his quiet focus when they’re studying. The carefully curated playlists he has started swapping with Rintarou, and how Rintarou wants to impress him more than usual with his musical taste. How being friends with Osamu is so easy it feels like they could fall into more than that with a gentle push, and their love would be a romance that simmers, warm and comforting. 

Long story short, Rintarou is now patently aware of his maybe less-than-platonic attraction to his roommate.

 _Osamu is a friend first,_ he scolds himself. _Do not go down that path. Don’t crap where you eat. Well, sleep. Whatever._

He tries to consciously shrug off Osamu’s easy affection at the party, making a point to mingle with other friends and acquaintances, and avoiding Osamu without outright avoiding him. It’s too easy to get caught up with Osamu when he’s like this, Rintarou decides. It will be easier to avoid him and his freewheeling hugs until they can go back to their usual friendship tomorrow with the only regrets in the form of a mild hangover headache.

By the time the party winds down and people head off to other weekend escapades or off to bed, Rintarou is not prepared for Atsumu to dump his half-sleeping roommate into his care with little more than a sideways grin and half-assed flap of the hands as apology.

“Sorry, Suna, despite his build, he’s kind of a lightweight. Well, he’s not really drunk, he just gets tired,” Atsumu calls back, walking off with his teammates down the sidewalk. “Take care of Samu for me!” He has the absolute gall to wink at Rintarou too. Clearly, he’s right though, since Osamu does nothing to protest this, just leans heavily on Rintarou.

Rintarou is a tall guy, but Osamu is a big guy. It’s more difficult than he’d like to admit stumbling back to their dorm with Osamu draped over his shoulder and only contributing to their combined locomotion with about 25% of his coordination. Not because Osamu is too heavy though—rather because he’s too warm, too close, too...cute as his hair brushes Rintarou’s neck, voice making unintelligible murmurs that sound like intimate whispers.

It’s not until they reach their room that Rintarou realizes their full predicament. Lugging Osamu back half across his shoulders and partially walking is not the same as hauling Osamu up into his bunk.

He so hoped to avoid this ever again now that he’s aware of his feelings. Leaving Osamu to sleep in his bed is obvious, but should Rintarou join him or sleep in Osamu’s bed instead? Rintarou looks up at the cold upper bunk and feels the weight of a few drinks and a long walk catching up to him. Well, what’s another bed-sharing incident anyways? They’ll chalk it up to being tipsy and tired. All will be well.

Maybe Osamu’s flailing rejection and embarrassment tomorrow will help convince Rintarou to bury his feelings under platonic friendship for good.

===

“Sorry, Suna! I’m really sorry. I know I said it wouldn’t happen again, but—”

“...Third time’s the charm?” Rintarou says drily when he wakes up to Osamu’s panicked apologies the next morning. Osamu calms down, but still looks contrite. “Really, it’s okay,” he hurries to reassure him. “I mean, well maybe not like _okay_ okay, but, I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s an awkward pause while Osamu does a familiar shuffle-scoot off the bed.

“Still...let me make it up to you, huh?” Osamu turns back and smiles sheepishly. “I’m probably not easy to sleep with.”

 _Too easy, actually,_ Rintarou thinks, then abruptly slams the brakes on that thought.

“You’re almost too easy-going about this, Suna,” Osamu says suddenly, and for a second Rintarou thinks he’s been found out. “Makes me wonder how many blackmail photos you have of my dumb sleeping face by now, huh?”

“I would never,” Rintarou gasps, fake-scandalized, but relieved.

He might have one, but if he does it’s because Osamu’s sleeping face is cute. Not dumb. 

Osamu cooks them breakfast in their dorm room as an apology. Rintarou is still not sure how he pulls off an impressive spread of food with the standard dorm-issue microwave, an electric kettle, and a smuggled-in rice cooker, but he has no complaints. It’s leagues better than the dining hall’s weekend breakfast options and much more palatable after their partying. 

It becomes a new routine for the two of them. Not the bed sharing, no, thankfully, since Rintarou’s heart couldn’t handle that. But on Saturday mornings when he sleeps in, Osamu manages to rouse himself and make them both breakfast, sometimes classic, sometimes creative, but always delicious.

He may actually cry at the delicate flavor of miso soup that Osamu concocts one day. It sings of home, and sitting across from Osamu at their desks, eating his food and watching silly videos on a lazy weekend morning, Rintarou looks sidelong at his roommate and realizes that he hasn’t been homesick for a long, long time.

=== [4] ===

In hindsight, Rintarou should have expected something like this. Atsumu is an opportunist, and a devious busybody, and incredibly, understatedly observant—particularly with regards to Osamu. Tipsy Atsumu was the tip of the iceberg; he now spends at least a solid third of the time they spend hanging out together subtly pushing him and Osamu together in little ways. 

It’s infuriating. Moreso because it makes Rintarou find _Osamu_ even more endearing.

So Atsumu taking the Boba Incident as another opportunity for that is par for the course. If Rintarou didn’t know better, he’d think Atsumu planned the whole thing.

It goes like this: Atsumu and Gin come over for a game night after midterms. Gin brings his game console. Atsumu brings nineteen years of knowledge on how to rile up his brother. It devolves from a friendly competition into an all out sibling war pretty quickly.

In other words, it’s another day, another Miya twin disaster in the making.

Rintarou and Gin excuse themselves in the middle of one fierce shouting match to grab some bubble tea and more snacks. It’s still a fun night, just much louder and more competitive than Rintarou pictured for something that was supposed to be “relaxing” after midterms. He and Gin have a good chuckle about it, talking over the pros and cons of playing co-op with one of the twins each versus going against them as a team.

They walk back into the room right on time to see the beginning of a more physical disagreement between the two of them. Rintarou has barely half a second to process that he has absolutely zero chance of preventing the next sequence of events. They happen with the slow motion of impending disaster.

Osamu yanks back a controller fiercely from a tug-of-war with Atsumu. Atsumu releases it with the perfect timing of a high-level setter. Osamu can’t quite redirect his momentum and swipes, with full strength, into the bag that Gin holds with all of their bubble tea. The frail paper and thin plastic don’t stand a chance—they all go flying, exploding with the force of Osamu’s swing and sending a truly horrendous spray of tea and boba pearls across the wall, the window, and most significantly...Rintarou’s bed. 

He’s lucky he folded up the comforter in anticipation of guests, but that means the rest of his bed—sheets, pillows, and mattress–are absolutely drenched in a heinous mixture of milk tea, lychee/strawberry, watermelon, brown sugar, and soggy tapioca.

Rintarou doesn’t even get video footage of it, which would make it _marginally_ worthwhile.

Life has yet to equip any of them with advanced cleaning skills, so they try to make do with google and the cleaning supplies they can scrounge up (some windex) before caving and going to wake up their terrifying RA. Kita doesn’t look one bit ruffled to be woken at 1:19 am on a Saturday morning, but they can never tell with him. It’s part of what makes him terrifying.

When he finally finishes instructing them on how to clean the mattress and leaves them with a warning to let it air dry fully and a selection of cleaning supplies, the four of them make quick work of the clean-up. Gin excuses himself right after that, saying he’ll pick up his console later, after some sleep.

Atsumu, however, takes one look at the state of the room, and smiles.

“Welllll, guess that’s my cue to leave too,” he grins, “you two have a good night~” Then he winks at Rintarou, and slips out the door.

 _Come hell or hefty property damage_ , Rintarou thinks, _Atsumu has his brother’s back. Or something._

Osamu already apologized right after the Incident, but Rintarou turns to see the same expression creeping onto his face again. He heads it off at the pass.

“For the record, I blame Atsumu,” Rintarou declares, stopping Osamu mid-breath, mouth slightly agape. He is mostly joking, but also has little charity for the blond right now.

“...Well, regardless, you can’t exactly sleep on that,” Osamu recovers, gesturing vaguely to the drying mattress. It’s leaning against the wall for airflow. “You can sleep in my bed if you want. It’s still fifty percent my fault after all. I can sleep on the floor.”

They both look down to the narrow space and drab carpeting with absolutely zero cushioning. Osamu does not quite hide a grimace.

“Or I’ll catch up to Tsumu, he can put me up for a night—”

“We can share,” Rintarou blurts out. “Uh. If you don’t mind, that is. Done it enough already, haven’t we?”

Osamu blinks, and then nods. “Uh, I guess. I mean yes. Or sure, yeah. That’s fine, totally fine.” If Rintarou didn’t know any better, it would sound like Osamu is as flustered as he is. But it’s probably just the late night talking.

It’s closer to dawn than midnight now, and even though Rintarou feels exhausted, once he clambers up into the top bunk and Osamu slides into the bed next to him, he is once again wide awake, just like that first night, and first bed mishap, all those months ago.

This time though, it sounds like Osamu has trouble falling asleep too. Rintarou knows Osamu’s sleep breathing by heart now—the exact count between breaths, the periodic snuffle, the occasional unintelligible murmur.

He almost caves and says something into the darkness, wants to crack a joke like “Hey, you up?”, but it feels a little too intimate, nestled as they are under Rintarou’s comforter, in Osamu’s bed.

=== [5] ===

After that night things are the same, but not. Their routine doesn’t change, but sometimes it seems like Osamu’s reactions do. There’s the split second delays in answering simple questions, Osamu either a little dazed or caught staring blankly at Rintarou. The longer, lingering brushes of hands and shoulders. And, incredibly, a host of unguarded smiles when Rintarou shakes Osamu awake in the mornings. The first time he sees it, Rintarou almost slips off the edge of his bed.

It feels like a tentative sort of dance into something new, their rhythm shifting, the time signature adding one more count to each measure. Neither of them say anything, just adjust to the new tempo in concert, but Rintarou’s heart thrums with the possibility of what it might mean.

It comes to a head on another Friday hangout night. This time Atsumu begs off with a date and Gin has a meeting for a group project that devolves into a group bar hop, based on the slightly incoherent text they receive halfway into movie two of three. 

Rintarou flips his phone to show Osamu the message and he merely nods, then turns back to the laptop screen balanced on both their knees with rapt attention. They’re pressed close together on Rintarou’s bed, propped up against the wall, an array of snacks beside the two of them and Osamu’s laptop whirring faintly in front of them. 

At some point, they both decide it’d be more comfortable to watch lying down, so they clean up the snacks and rearrange themselves to lay on their stomachs, the laptop at the head of the bed. They start movie three of three.

Osamu hasn’t seen this one, but Rintarou has, so he’s free to glance over at Osamu as often as he likes instead, only keeping half an eye on the screen. Not that he does it that often, of course. He’s interested in gauging Osamu’s interest in the movie, obviously. Even so, it has been a long week; Osamu’s eyes start drooping as they inch towards the climax of the movie, and eventually when Rintarou glances at Osamu, the other is fast asleep.

Afraid to wake him, Rintarou lets the movie run its course, but not even the flashy explosions on the screen rouse him. His breaths even out and stay steady as the credits roll, then end. Their room goes quiet, only the sound of Osamu asleep, and Rintarou holding his own breath.

“Osamu,” Rintarou whispers. “Oi.” He pokes a cheek, but Osamu furrows his brow in sleep and then burrows his face even further into the pillow he pulled from his own bed.

Rintarou considers this now familiar problem. Osamu, asleep on his bed again. This time, though, it feels a little more deliberate, a little less circumstantial. They’ve been pressed against each other all night, cozied up under the same blanket.

Maybe it means something, maybe Rintarou’s reading too much into it. Either way, Osamu’s in his bed once again, and Rintarou certainly doesn’t mind. He’s not sure if he ever really did.

He thinks he wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with Osamu for the rest of his life.

===

This time, when Rintarou wakes up, it’s to a pair of warm gray eyes watching him quietly. He blinks awake slowly, uncertain, but Osamu smiles, inches away from his face.

No panicked apologies. No regret.

“Morning,” Osamu says, voice gravelly, but gentle.

“Morning,” Rintarou replies.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Osamu starts, then hesitates.

Rintarou hums. “Go on.”

“I’ve been thinking...that I like sleeping in your bed a lot. And I was wondering if you’d like to make the arrangement permanent.”

This time it seems like Osamu is the one holding his breath. Rintarou feels his own rushing to escape him with joy.

“Oh, you want to swap beds?” Rintarou teases. Osamu flushes, but before he can answer, an angry sounding vibration rings from somewhere in the sheets. It’s definitely Osamu’s phone, since Rintarou keeps his on silent. Osamu’s eyebrow twitches, but he ignores it.

“You going to get that?” Rintarou asks. Even the buzzing sounds impatient.

“Nah, it’s probably just Atsumu wanting to know how our date went,” Osamu says.

“Oh, date you say?” Rintarou smiles as Osamu flushes even deeper. “Was this supposed to be a date?”

Osamu’s cheeks are bright red, but he shrugs and flops back onto his back with his hands clasped behind his head. “If you want it to be.”

Rintarou wants that. He wants to laugh, he wants to kiss him. He wants to share his bed and maybe share his life with him.

He rolls over, landing across Osamu as the other protests, caging Osamu below him with his arms.

“Say it to me properly, Osamu.”

“Hey, Rin,” the color, high on his cheeks, undoubtedly matches Rintarou’s own face. “Want to date?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and leans down. “I do, Osamu.” And then he lets Osamu tug him down the last fleeting inches to press their lips together.

=== [+1] ===

“Say, Rin,” Osamu intones from next to him. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Oh?” Rintarou turns his head, the crisp white pillowcase wrinkling under his movements with a soft crinkle. “Why?”

“This is too big for the bedroom,” Osamu says, propping himself up on one arm to look at Rintarou. He _is_ further away from Rintarou than he’s used to, the expanse of mattress between them a foreign distance even at a mere twenty-one inches. After all, when they’re so used to cramming into a twin frame bed, any kind of space feels foreign. Their soon-to-be new apartment is full of such unknown luxuries.

“Hmmm,” Rintarou hums. “Maybe you’re right.”

“A double would be much more economical.”

“Mmm.” Rintarou scoots closer. 

“Yup,” Osamu says, catching on. He shifts forward on the bed a little as well.

“PLEASE,” Atsumu wails from the end of the bed, “ _this is an IKEA showroom._ ”

Both Osamu and Rintarou pop their heads up at the complaint, sporting deadpan stares at the interloper.

Atsumu puts a hand to his face and starts massaging the exasperation from his temples. “You know what, nevermind, don’t call me to bail you out for public indecency violations.” He stalks off, petulant, but still dutifully snags their cart.

Osamu and Rintarou watch him retreat, then turn to each other and break into laughter. They roll off the queen-size bed in the showroom, and wander over to a slightly smaller variation. Wordlessly, they both collapse sideways onto the mattress with a soft _thwump._

The bed doesn’t quiver or creak under their combined heft. It’s not too tall, not too short. And most importantly, Rintarou thinks, he can easily reach out for his boyfriend, even with the increased space. He does so, just to test it.

“What d’you think?” Osamu asks, holding Rintarou’s hands tight between them.

“Perfect,” Rintarou says.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first official work for this pairing, so I'm still getting used to their characters, but there is certainly more in the works to come!
> 
> \---
> 
> Please feel free to say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tirralirralirra)!


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